A Fortunate Mishap
by annequinox
Summary: AU. He would have been annoyed, but she's this pretty girl across the hallway and he's kind of thankful that he has to buy her lunch for dirtying her shirt.


**A Fortunate Mishap**

 **WARNING:** This chapter was not beta read; I only proofread this.

 **DISCLAIMER:** _I do not own Fairy tail, Hiro Mashima does._

* * *

Soul hates going outside. It's common knowledge and he usually does everything properly to make sure that he doesn't have to leave his humble abode. Sometimes that means eating canned food and instant noodles for a whole month and having dirty laundry in three baskets—he regrets doing this the most, because it results to longer visits to the laundromat.

He's not really a social guy. He doesn't party or attend any kind of social gatherings. He'd rather much draw at home. He also hates shopping, though when he does, it's for art supplies and daily necessities.

He's reminded of lunch when his phone lights up, the screen blinking rhythmically to a tune he chose as his alarm tone. He looks at it wearily, frowning.

He isn't actually hungry. He had a protein bar earlier this morning and had coffee before he started sketching. Honestly, he still felt full.

A groan escapes his lips. He starts regretting making that promise with Wes—the one where he should never skip a meal. It's kind of stupid. He isn't a kid anymore. He's 21 and he's completely capable of taking care of himself.

His family thinks otherwise though.

With a heavy sigh, Soul carefully places his dip pen on a paper towel beside his drawing pad. He feels annoyed already, just by putting his pen down. If there's one thing that he hates the most—aside from going outside—it's leaving his work unfinished.

"Stupid lunch," he says through gritted teeth, pushing his chair back and furiously scrubbing his hands through his scalp. "Stupid Wes."

A gust of wind enters through his curtained windows and he shudders. Right, it's already mid-November and it's chilly outside. He breathes out a curse and throws on a sweater over his shirt. His favorite shirt, with a scythe and a skull on the back—ugh, oh how he dreads covering its glory.

He remembers his almost-empty bottle of ink gathering dust in his shelves. He hasn't used it in a while, mostly because his new favorite is Indian ink. But he kept it because he thought he may still use it for future projects. Thinking about it now, he should've thrown it out ages ago. It's still usable though so he's thinking he should give it to that aspiring artist on the first floor.

Yeah, maybe he should do that. And then grab some lunch.

His mind set, Soul grabs the ink by the cap. Only the cap is lifted though and he frowns. He never did replace the rubber lining inside—it's still as loose as ever. He picks it up by its glass body and pulls open a drawer, grabbing his wallet and stuffing it his pocket before shutting it close and heading out of his room.

He lingers by the doorway, looking at anything that may seem out of place. There's nothing much to fix anyway so he ends up turning the lights off and going out of his apartment.

The hallway is quiet apart from the sound of heavy sex ongoing in the apartment next to his. He rolls his eyes. Thank god his walls are soundproof, or else he may report them for being so bloody noisy. Who has sex at 12 noon anyway?

The door across his opens and he finds himself facing Maka Albarn, famous writer and all. He knows her but he's never spoken a word to her, much less seen her. He's always had this idea that she's like him—introvert, shut in, a genius. It's nice to know that they even left their apartments at the same time. Ah, and she's pretty.

His eyes quietly drink in her features. He thinks his favorite asset of hers is her pigtails. Or her green eyes. He's never seen eyes that green before. Or it could be her non-existent chest…

"Um, you're Soul Evans, right?"

He snaps out of his thoughts and stares at the hand that's outstretched towards him. He takes it with as much nervousness as a teenage boy with a childish crush would and gives it a shake. "Yeah. And you're Maka…?"

She smiles softly. "Yup. Nice to meet you."

Soul swallows thickly and tries his best not to freak out. "Likewise."

They both stiffen as a wanton moan, muffled as it is, reaches their ears. He looks at her from the corner of his eye sheepishly. "They're kind of annoying, huh?"

Maka crosses her arms over her chest and nods. "You said it. They were at it all night too."

"Wow."

Soul cringes at the fact that he lacks social skills and gingerly scratches the side of his neck. "So… I'll see you then?"

She blinks and laughs, shaking her head. "Right, sure. Going out for lunch?"

"Yeah," he affirms, raising his shoulder in a shrug. "Bye then."

He veers to the right with his heel and somehow he feels stuck. Furrowing his eyebrows, he nudges his legs and realizes that his belt hoop got suck on the handle once again. Like always.

A bright warm hue fills his cheeks and he swiftly turns around to tug it off when he unceremoniously lets go of the ink bottle. He hears Maka squeak and his eyes widen, petrified. He successfully unhooks his belt hoop from the handle and turns around to see the cap of the bottle rolling on the floor, black ink splattered everywhere.

And by everywhere, he means Maka.

"Shit," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say and partly because he feels like it. _Shit_. How could he just spill black ink over this pretty neighbor of his?

Maka sniffs, pulling her shirt away from her body to take a look at it. "Well… this is unfortunate," she states dryly. There are splotches on her cheek and a few spots on her arms but her shirt—well damn, it looks like a work of art, to be honest.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry." Soul has never been this embarrassed before and he feels terrible. "I'll… uh… wow, sorry."

She smiles and shakes her head, placing her hands on her hips. "Oh well, it can't be helped. Accidents happen." She tries to get rid of some of the marks on her arm but she only ends up smearing them. "It's okay."

Soul knows it's definitely not okay. "No, this is terribly wrong. I should've been more careful."

"Can I wash this off?"

He winces, wishing he doesn't have to answer that. "No. I'm afraid it… stains on fabric."

Maka sighs and looks down sadly at the mess she is. "And it had to be on my favorite shirt."

Soul brings a hand to his mouth and nibbles on his nails. "I'm really fucking sorry, oh my god." He closes his eyes, groaning. "Please don't sue me."

There's a moment of silence before she bursts out laughing. He blinks and she calms down after a while, grinning. "Silly, why would I sue you? That's kind of over the top, don't you think?"

"Well…"

"Look, it's just a shirt," she tells him, shrugging. "I can just buy the same one. But you have to buy me lunch."

Soul holds his breath. "That's it?"

"Yeah," she says with a wink. "Just lunch. I am kind of famished."

This girl's an angel. "Yes, definitely. That's perfectly fine by me." And a pretty one at that. "I'll wait for you to clean yourself up then?"

She shakes her head and waves her hands. "Oh, no. You can go on ahead. I suppose you're heading for the café down the street, right?"

Well, not really. "Yeah, I was," he lies and shifts his weight onto his other foot. The bottle of ink bumps against his foot and he bends down to pick it up. "I'll wait for you there then?"

"Yup. See you later."

"See ya."

* * *

It takes Soul only a second inside the café to say that he likes the place. It isn't crowded, even though it's a Saturday, and the interior feels homey. He inwardly rates it a ten and takes a seat in the corner. He decides that he doesn't mind leaving his apartment if he gets to eat here, especially now that he knows that this is where Maka eats.

He passes the time by already ordering his food. Although he would've ordered hers too, he doesn't really know what she wants and he doesn't want to order for her. It could end up bad. Again.

Fifteen minutes later, Maka shows up in a fresh set of clothes. She's wearing a jumper and jeans, with her hair still in the childish pigtails and her face now void of ink. She beams as soon as she sees him.

"I'm sorry! Did I take too long? Did you already order? Did you take my order?"

He's taken aback by the barrage of questions and chuckles as she takes her seat in front of him. He's aware that he's feeling a bit skirmish. "Yeah. Sorry, I didn't really know what you wanted so I didn't order for you yet."

Maka breathes a sigh of relief. "That's actually good. I'm kind of picky so…"

"It's fine," he says, playing with the thread on his sweater and tugging on it. It snaps immediately. "You should go order now."

"Oh, right."

Soul patiently waits for her to tell the waiter her order. He's surprised that she only wants a lasagna and a latte. He ordered some barbecued chicken and juice though. The smell of food wafts through the air and his stomach growls, making him realize that he's actually hungry. Weird.

Maka's order arrives a few minutes later when he's halfway through his and she digs in immediately. "So, you're an artist, right?" she says, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "My best friend's a fan of your work."

Soul flushes and tries to smile through a mouthful of food. He takes a moment to swallow. "Yeah, I am. Oh really? I'm touched. The ink I actually spilled on you earlier was, er, the one I used when I first started out. The rubber lining inside had gone missing and I never got around to replacing it and it's old so… again, I'm sorry."

Maka giggles and sips her coffee. "Seriously? Soul, you've been nothing but a dear. It's okay," she repeats, slowly, and Soul gulps as he watches the way her lips close over her spoon.

He looks back at his food. "Right… okay. What about you? You're the infamous writer, right? My brother is a fan of your first novel. He was actually jealous when I told him that you live across my place and has always wanted to ask you to sign his copy but we didn't want to disturb you."

"Oh, that's a shame then. Bring him over next time when he's with you." Her eyelashes flutter and he notices how deep her collarbone is when she bends over the table. "I'll sign his book."

He smiles crookedly. "I'll make sure to tell him that."

"Now that I think about it," Maka pauses to swallow. "I've never actually seen any of your paintings. Would you care to show me next time?"

She's going into his room? Wait, next time? "Sure," he tells her, trying desperately not to burst into flames. Damn, is he blushing? He hopes not.

Maka smiles back and continues eating. He finishes his food too, sneaking a peek at her every now and then. She's a little clumsy. She leaves some sauce on the table and accidentally chews on her hair. He likes it when she laughs away her clumsiness though, as if it's perfectly fine.

Soul licks his lips and swallows hard. He didn't know that the writer his brother likes so much was this cute. If he had known that months ago, he would have talked to her already.

Their little date ends as quickly as it had happened. Soul's brain doesn't process that they're already back at the building and standing in front of each other's respective homes. The mess they had created on the floor was gone now—probably the maintenance. That's good though. He never wants to be reminded of his humiliation ever again.

They're bidding their farewell and raising hands, which makes Soul think that he's never been this sad before.

Maka opens her door and stops, looking at him. She smiles. "Hey, maybe we should go out for lunch again?"

And now he thinks he's dreaming. "W-What?"

"I think you're cool," she says, giggling. "What do you say?"

Yes. Fucking _yes_. "Sure," he tells her with a lazy smile. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." She opens her door wider and steps inside. "I'll see you then, _Soul._ "

He breathes out a reply, his mind in a daze as he enters his apartment. He flicks the lights open and leans against the door, breathless. He doesn't realize that he's grinning so much. But after a while, his cheeks start to hurt and he presses his hands against them.

Keep your cool, Soul mentally tells himself.

He repeats it like a mantra and he can't help but laugh because for the first time, he actually looks forward to going outside.

* * *

 **A/N:** This was for SoMa Week 2016, Day 4: Ink, and I decided to upload it here on FFN :) I hope you liked it!

 _"Out of a billion other souls, yours could only resonate with mine._ _"_

 _Byee! -Anne :D_

* * *

 _\- Please support/read my other stories: **Celebrity Issues, Forgotten Memories, The Devil and the Assassin, Fragile, Nyctophilia, Life's Challenges, Queen of Stars, A Love That Lasts Forever** and **Going Against The Current.**_


End file.
